A Half Blood Prince
by miminator
Summary: Snape's life, or bits of it. Hopefully you will feel a bit of pity toward him after you're finished and not hate him.


**A/N: **This fic is to make the reader feel sorry for Snape… at least a little bit. After reading HBP, I don't want everyone hating him. Section breaks are between years. **_BEWARE- HBP SPOILERS!_**

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing that you recognize. I took memories and information from JK Rowling, but also made up a few myself. The ones you do not recognize are mine, and the character Valerie Morgan. The bits of song are by Dashboard Confessional, and all credit goes to them.

**A Half Blood Prince**

It was my ninth birthday. My mother had promised me it would be all my day. All about me. She even said my father was at work so it would just be the two of us. My father was an attorney, so I was used to his absence. It just made the day better that he wasn't here.

I only got one gift that birthday. I only got one gift every birthday. As always, it was from my mother. She'd given me a Gobstones set that year, excited. "Just imagine, Severus," she said delightedly, "now you can play Gobstones and join the Gobstones club at Hogwarts, just like Mummy. I can teach you how to play. Won't that be fun?" She hugged me.

I really had no interest in playing Gobstones, much less joining the club, but I didn't want to disappoint her. I smiled like a Gobstones set was exactly what I wanted.

"But Mum," I said, "what if I don't get into Hogwarts?"

"Oh, don't say that, darling," my mother said, ruffling my hair. "Severus," she said, frowning, "I told you to take a bath this morning." She pointed her wand at me. Just then my father walked in. My hair was clean. My father stared at my mother and the wand in her hand. He didn't look at me.

"Eileen," he asked slowly, "what is the meaning of this?" His face was white.

"Tobias!" my mother said, rushing to him. "I didn't think you'd be home from work for a few hours. What a nice surprise! Isn't that lovely, Severus, darling? Daddy's home for your birthday!" She attempted to hug him. He slapped her away.

"You didn't answer me, Eileen."

"Well, I—"

"I knew something was going on," said my father coldly. "Every time I walked into a room you and the boy were in, talking, you'd shut up immediately. I've been suspecting something fishy for a year now. That's why I've been spending my time at the office, away from you two."

"Tobias, please," my mother pleaded. "Severus is—"

"I don't give a damn what he is!" my father roared. "I want the truth, Eileen! What the hell are you?"

"Well," said my mother, now in tears. "I'm a witch. I can do magic. It's not a big deal, Tobias. Please," she said quietly. "Now that you know, I can do magic around the house. Things will be easier now. We'll be more of a family—"

"How can we be more of a family when my wife and son are _freaks_?" my father hissed. My mother was weeping in the corner.

"Toby, please," she wailed softly. "Severus—"

"Let him stay," my father said, unfeeling. "He'll see what his mother is. And don't you dare call me that insane nickname again."

I was now crying in the doorway, wanting to leave but my feet were glued to the floor.

"Please, Tobias," my mother whimpered. "Please, just listen… please don't be mad…"

"Mad? This place is a circus! Witches and magic… goddamn. Why did you keep this from me all these years, Eileen?" my father spat.

_Because you'd react like this, moron, _I thought, but I knew my mother would never say that to Tobias Snape. A few years later I realized that all she ever did since she met him was try to please him.

"I love you, Tobias," she sobbed. "I didn't want to scare you away."

"Yeah?" he growled. He picked up his briefcase, dumped a drawer full of clothes into a suitcase and carried both to the front door. "Nice job." He yanked the door open.

"You're… you're coming back, aren't you?" my mother sniffed, her worried face red and tearing up again.

"We'll see, won't we?" He walked out, slamming the door shut.

My father did return, a week later. He had been staying in a hotel and ran out of money, so he came back. He stayed, but he never treated my mother or me the same again. He kept his distance, yelled all the time, never spoke a kind word. I remember crying nights when the thin walls that encased my room enabled me to hear my father yelling at my mother and throwing things that hit the opposite side of my wall. My mother was heartbroken. I only saw her smile one time a year after that—on my birthday. Even then it was forced.

* * *

I got my Hogwarts letter when I was eleven, just like every other Hogwarts student. Real joy overcame my mother's face. She began telling me all about Hogwarts—the Great Hall, the ghosts, riding a broomstick, Gobstones of course, wizard chess… that year, I got a wizard chess set for my birthday.

"You get sorted into Houses by this magical hat called the Sorting Hat, Severus," she said excitedly. "It's so exciting—and a little nerve-wracking, but a great experience. I was in Slytherin, the best there is. I expect you to be in Slytherin too, Sevvy."

"Mum, stop calling me that," I grumbled, annoyed. I was irritated then, but now I think maybe I was all she had. My father acted like he had nothing to do with her. I was her only child, her only real relative. She wanted me to do well… she _needed_ me to do well. I was her last hope.

First year, everything went wrong. I wasn't liked by anybody. I was sorted into Slytherin, however, to my mother's relief. My dorm mates stole my clothes every morning after my shower, and sometimes my towel, too. I was constantly teased about my hair and nose; shot with remarks like "Hey Snape, why bother taking a shower? Doesn't do you much good!" and "How're things going with ol' Potty? Oh, that's right—you wouldn't know, you were unconscious most of the time!" By my own housemates, fellow Slytherins. I was unpopular even within my House.

Of course, I never told my mother any of this. It would kill her. I always felt like I was the one who needed to keep her going, remind her she had a will to live.

* * *

In my second year, I received a letter from my mother at Hogwarts by owl mail. I was surprised because we didn't own an owl; we couldn't afford one. We couldn't afford much of anything, actually. My father was still paying the bills for the house, but he didn't buy us anything else. I had to reuse robes. My mother had to pay for my wand, school supplies and her food by working odd jobs in the Wizarding community.

So I received this letter late one night, about ten-thirty. At first I wasn't sure the letter was for me, but when the owl began pecking insistently at my finger I decided to open it. I remember it word for word; I'd read it over and over until I'd memorized it. It wasn't hard, even though it was smudged with splashed tears.

_Dearest Severus,_

_Your father left last night. For good—he packed everything and said he was going to find someone else. I can't keep the house. I don't know where I'm going to go or what I'm going to do. I need you to stay at Hogwarts this Christmas._

_Love,_

_Your mother_

I was so disappointed—staying at this school longer than I had to was a nightmare.

My favorite subject was Defense Against the Dark Arts. I put forth so much effort but the stupid new professor refused to acknowledge my talent and effort. I remember most vividly a time when I knew the answer to the question and I had a full-length perfect paper I was willing to read if it meant the idiot professor would finally notice me. I waved my hand around wildly, jiggled around in my seat. The professor's eyes met mine, and I swore he smirked. He then turned and called on Valerie Morgan. Stupid smart girl. She knows everything, beats me in every class except Potions. She's struggling in that one. I was ready to kill him. The imbecile kept ignoring me and I was pissed. After that year, I just gave up on trying to excel in that class.

That Potter was absolute crap. He made the Gryffindor Quidditch team Seeker. He was a pig. Stupid fat airhead. Thinking he was all that… I had quite a few hexes to throw at him, but he's always followed by his stupid friends and a group of stupid fans. Damn, what I'd give for a little time alone with him. I would've screwed his ugly head on straight.

* * *

In third year, on one horrible fateful day, arrogant airhead Potter challenged me during a break. He stole my Potions book and vowed to give it back if I could catch him on a broomstick. I couldn't say no; everyone was there. Including Morgan. Potter threw a broomstick at me because I obviously didn't have one of my own. I tried to mount it when Black said "go," but it started bucking like wild. I was halfway on it when I started falling off. Horrified, I desperately tried to climb back on. The broom kept bucking and one of my legs was off the broomstick, with one hand grasped desperately tight around the handle and one leg wrapped around it, too, and one arm flailing. I chanced a look down, and I saw Valerie Morgan, along with pretty much the entirety of Hogwarts, laughing at me. As I looked around horribly, I saw Black with his wand poking slightly out of his robes and realized what the two idiots did. Making me look like a fool in front of Valerie Morgan… I would never forgive them for that. Her laughing, mocking face was emblazoned in my memory forever.

I was top of my class in Potions in third year. Rather, it was when my obsession started. Valerie Morgan beat me at _everything_ besides Potions, and it was the one thing that made me feel good. This year I also tried to come up with ways to approach Valerie. She was always surrounded by a group of faithful Slytherin friends. She was smart, popular, pretty… and I was me. Severus Snape, the greasy-haired depressed loser who was rapidly becoming obsessed with the Dark Arts. But now I stand out in class in a good way, and maybe, just maybe, she would notice. I savored the way she looked when I beat her at Potions; she couldn't even concoct a simple Draught of Living Death. Revenge really was sweet; whoever said otherwise was as nuts as Dumbledore.

That year, Lucius Malfoy had approached me. He commented on my lonely, reluctant disposition and that I seemed like the perfect guy to help him. I asked him what the hell he was on about. He pulled me aside to a dark corner of the hall, where the light from the windows did not reach.

"The Dark Arts," Malfoy whispered. "They resemble power. You are slightly familiar with them, I know. But I can help you. You can become powerful. Popular. The most-respected in all of Slytherin."

This did interest me, I admit, but I frowned.

"What's in it for you?"

"Well… your loyalty."

"_Excuse me?_" I said poisonously.

"Well… I wouldn't call it friendship, because we're Slytherins and we don't do that crap. But you and I would be Dark masters together. You learn, I learn, and vice versa. Think of all it could bring you." With that, he left.

A couple of days later, I approached Lucius Malfoy and accepted his proposal.

"Sure," I said. "I'll do the Dark Arts thing." Lucius grabbed my wrist. He had a pincer-like grip.

"You've got to be more serious about the Dark Arts than that. Do you know how much trouble we—"

"Relax," I sneered. "You haven't seen me serious." I shrugged off his grip and walked away.

Thinking I was a big man because I was now involved in the Dark Arts, I approached Valerie Morgan that day. She was sitting by the lake, reading something.

"Morgan," I said as I approached her. She looked up.

"Snape," she acknowledged.

"Do you mind?" She did not respond, so I sat beside her. "I… um, well I noticed you've been having some trouble in Potions."

"Oh, have you now?" She stood up haughtily and began walking toward the castle.

"Valerie!" The word had slipped out of my mouth. Trying to cover for my stupid blunder, I shouted, "Morgan, wait!" She stopped. "I was thinking… well, if you'd like, I could help you."

Her dark blue eyes showed no emotion. "Sure, Snape. Library, tonight, eight o'clock. If you're up to it." She walked off briskly. For the rest of the day, I wore a smug sneer and the puzzled looks on everyone's faces told me no one knew why.

The night was a dud. Valerie had no intention of trying to learn Potions. She clearly expected me to somehow magically imprint it all into her brain. I asked her what the hell her problem was.

"My grades are important to me," she said simply. "Very important. But Potions doesn't come as easily and naturally to me, so as far as I'm concerned, it's a nitwit's subject."

I told her what a pile of house-elf crap I thought that was. She huffed and left. I told myself I didn't care, but as time passed, it became more apparent that I did.

* * *

Fourteen. Merlin, what an overall rotten year. The summer before my fourth year I stayed locked up in my bedroom, much to my mother's dismay. I didn't really care then. I didn't clean my room or open the windows or turn on the lights, so it was dusty and musty and dark. Flies started to gather, and I'd shoot them from my ceiling with my wand, having recently learned Avada Kedavra. My mother left the house often, crying more often than not. I didn't care so much anymore, however. All I could think of was Valerie Morgan. She loomed ahead of me like some challenge, one I would overcome. I knew I would. I spent the summer building myself up and tearing myself down, so that eventually I was so psychologically confused that I did what I did that year.

The summer before fourth year was also when my mother started drinking. She was still in love with my terrible arse of a father and had never forgiven herself nor gotten over him. She was horrible to be around when she was drunk.

Once, that summer, my mother irritated me so much that I blew. She was drinking like a fish and hiccupping. She started singing some kind of song in a bubbly, unsteady voice.

"Shut it, Eileen," I snapped. She stopped singing immediately and looked at me.

"Whats'a matter, Sevvy?" she slurred. "A' you okay?"

"The matter is that my father is gone. Gone! And he's not coming back. Why can't you understand, woman?" I yelled.

My mother was taken aback. "Sev'rus, don' talk to m' like that. I'z 'Mommy'."

"I'm not a little boy anymore, Eileen! What did you miss?"

"Sev'rus, don' talk to—"

"Whatever. I'm out of here." I walked out, slamming the door hard. I had walked a few steps when I realized I had done the exact same thing to her my father had. I felt guilty immediately, because she was the only one who had ever cared for me, but I didn't go back. I walked back into the house around one in the morning and found her sitting on our ratty torn sofa, rigid. When I walked in, she leapt up and hugged me tightly, crying and blabbing on and on about how sorry she was.

I never told her I was sorry, that I never blamed her for any of this, that I hadn't meant what I had said. I never told her I only wished she was like everyone else's mother, that maybe if I had a regular family I would be a bit more normal. Deep down, I knew even if I had a mother and father who were hopelessly in love I wouldn't fit in, but I had to put blame on someone, had to see a "what if?" to the situation, so I could say I knew where we went wrong and where things could be fixed.

I never told her I loved her out loud. I never told her I didn't expect her to do a better job with me. I never uttered a word about my feelings. Never.

Fourth year was pretty uneventful but humiliating nonetheless, except for the time I asked Valerie Morgan out. She had just beaten me terribly in Defense Against the Dark Arts class—I looked like an idiot. I don't know why—usually people would have been discouraged by something like that—but it made me want to ask her out even more. I approached her after class. I remember it so well. She was talking and laughing with a group of her popular friends, and I was intimidated. I still, however, walked up to her and said, "Morgan? Can I talk to you?"

She gave me a strange look, then gave her friends a weird look, but shrugged and followed me to the weeping willow. She started at me, waiting for me to speak.

_Hey girl_

_You've got a smart way about you_

_And it makes me wish that I was smart enough for you_

I cleared my throat nervously. "Er… well, you know I've been helping you with Potions and now you're doing really well… better than before, I mean…" I was completely flustered around her.

"Is this where I have to pay you back, Snape?" she asked then, a disapproving note in her voice.

"No!" I said hastily. "Well… I was, erm, wondering… well, I like you and would you like to maybe go-out-sometime?" I said in a rush. I remember I was sweating.

_Hey girl_

_You've got a fine laugh, and I think that I could get used to that_

_And you're already used to laughing at me_

She looked a little uncomfortable. "Snape, I don't know what to say… I just don't like you that way. I'm sorry."

"Oh. Well, whatever." I just left her there, walking away briskly. She never spoke to me kindly again after that.

* * *

Fifth year was my worst year. O.W.L.s took place, but they were a small concern compared to the rest of my year. I dove right into my Potions work that year.

In October, just before Halloween, I got a letter from my mother. Even though I only read it once, every letter is stamped in my mind in her curly handwriting.

_Severus,_

_I'm going on a little trip. I sent you a little something with this letter. It was mine when I was at Hogwarts. Enjoy. Take care of yourself, darling._

_Your mother_

I chucked the letter into the cold fire in the dungeon. She was so naïve, and didn't know anything about me. Upon unwrapping the parcel she had sent, I discovered it was yet another Gobstones set. Angrily, I threw it into the fire also. She did not know me at all. I hated Gobstones. I didn't have any real friends. Now she's leaving.

Before Christmas I received another letter. It wasn't from my mother. The very air of the letter had a horrible cold quality to it. It bore the seal of the Ministry of Magic and was addressed to _Severus Snape, the Dungeon, Hogwarts._ With a knot in my stomach, I broke the seal. A small piece of parchment fell out.

_To Severus Snape or Whom It May Concern:_

_We regret to inform you that Eileen Snape, maiden name Eileen Prince, was found dead exactly two hours and three minutes ago. It has been conceded that she committed suicide and performed the Unforgivable Killing Curse on herself._

_Her will states that all her possessions are to be given to her son, Severus Snape. Severus Snape may pick up her few possessions at the Ministry of Magic at his earliest convenience. They will be disposed of and donated after December twenty-sixth._

_Our deepest sympathies,_

_Gretchen Waldorf_

_Ministry of Magic_

It took a while for this to sink in. My mother was gone, but it wasn't as if she had been there for me a lot lately, either. I didn't have the last letter she sent me, and I didn't have her Gobstones set. All I had of my mother were her possessions, which I had to pick up.

I never went to retrieve them. I expect they were donated to a children's hospital or St. Mungo's or something. I didn't feel after that, ever. Not for my mother, not for Valerie Morgan, not for anyone.

_And now, as I hang upside down in the air, people laughing and jeering and pointing and mocking, I remember it all. I remember how my mother wanted the best for me. How I was always alone because she refused to face reality. As I hang here, my graying underpants on display for the world to see, I think of how I'm still alone. I think of what my mother went through. As James Potter suggests he take my pants off, I remember everything he's done to me over the years and everything I've done to him. I think of how Valerie Morgan is laughing at me right this moment. I think of how James Potter made my hair bright pink and made my pants drop one day in the hall, and how they all laughed. I think of how he makes me suffer every day and humiliates me. And I hate him._

**A/N: **Hopefully after reading this you'll feel a little less hate. Feedback, please.


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